The Mark of Superman
by Lopithecus
Summary: Lord Superman makes sure Lord Batman knows exactly who he belongs to


**The Mark of Superman**

 **A/N: Now that the SuperBat Reverse Bang is done, I'm posting this fic here as well. Please enjoy!**

 **See the wonderful art this fic was based on by Yamada ( Tumblr art blog: lord-yamada)**

 **I would like to thank my beta mitzvah (Melting) for beta reading this story. I really appreciate the thorough look through and all the pointers and suggestions that you made. It helped flesh out this story a lot and I couldn't have done it without you! :D**

 **The title is a play on "The Mark of Cain" because the art has the Superman symbol burned into Bruce's skin and because I feel like it. ;P**

 **Written for the SuperBat Reverse Bang 201** 8

 **Warnings: Extremely Dubious Consent, Dub-con bordering on non-con, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation**

Extremely Dubious Consent dub-con bordering on non-con Emotional/Psychological Abuse Physical Abuse Emotional Manipulation Manipulation

"There's another small group of rebels forming in New York. We'll need to gather information to find out where their base of operations are and take them down." Clark looks over at Bruce, making eye contact through the cowl. "I want you to do that, Batman."

Bruce gives Clark a brisk nod, watching Clark as he continues onto another topic. It's only been six months since the Justice Lords were formed and within those few months, all they've done is put the fear of God into innocent people. Or maybe people no longer believe in a God. Maybe all that's left is Lord Superman.

Bruce is startled when he hears Diana's voice calling him and he blinks, moving his gaze to her. She repeats herself. "Do you have anything to add, Batman?"

"No," he says, simple and to the point. He really doesn't have anything useful to add. One of the first things Clark had done "for him" was lobotomize the Gotham rogues. Clark had seemed to take the most pleasure out of burning holes into the Joker, muttering something about how the Joker will never be able to hurt Bruce or his children again. Or maybe it was Selina Clark had the most fun with, snapping her neck whilst growling that she can never have Bruce. Bruce doesn't know anymore.

Clark's eyes are on him, boring into his skull as if the man can read Bruce's thoughts. The alien doesn't look happy with him. "That's it for now. You're dismissed."

Bruce stands slowly, anxiety thick in the air. No one wants to make Superman mad, no one but Diana who isn't afraid to purposely antagonize the alien into anger, and everyone is always walking on eggshells whenever the man is around. Somehow, they can tell Bruce has made him angry. Bruce isn't really sure what he did to make Clark angry at him suddenly, but he doesn't want to deal with it in this room. His eyes flit to the empty seat, the one with the lightning bolt on it, before turning away and leaving the room, his back hot with the feeling of Clark's eyes staring at him.

He doesn't even make it halfway to the transporters before he's grabbed by the arm in a strong grip. "Come with me." The menacing, angry tone of Clark makes Bruce's heart speed up. He has no choice but to do as told.

Clark brings him to an abandoned hallway, one that is rarely used anymore. It leads to the cafeteria. No one has eaten there in months, too many memories of Wally being there constantly, food stacked so high one would wonder where the speedster put it all. No one wants to think about Wally nor do they want to actually eat with one another anymore. This is no longer a happy place.

"What is it?" Bruce dares to ask and the hand gripping his arm tightens. It makes him glad that he had put extra padding in his suit, ever since Clark killed Luthor.

Still, Bruce is startled when Clark spins him around and slams his back into the wall. "What had you so distracted?" The alien demands, both hands on Bruce now.

"Nothing," Bruce claims, not meeting Clark's eyes. He doesn't recognize them anymore. They are void of their usual warmth, their love. He misses the days when Clark would look at him as if he meant the world to him, when Clark would kiss him passionately, softly. The days when they would hold each other after a long fight, lying in bed, ignoring the world for a few hours. He misses the days when his chest didn't hurt with heartbreak.

"No," Clark starts, leaning in. "You were thinking of something. Tell me." The Kryptonian's voice has gone gentle but Bruce isn't fooled. It's just a ploy Clark uses, to get Bruce to lower his guard. It works every time. He loves Clark too much.

"I was thinking about you," he says low, almost inaudible. It's not the whole truth but Clark will like hearing it.

"Oh?" A smile forms on the man's lips and for a brief second Bruce sees the old Clark, the one he fell in love with. "What about me?"

Bruce forces a smile back. "How much I love you."

Clark's smile disappears almost instantaneously. "You're lying."

"What?"

Clark's eyes grow hard, angry. "You were thinking about Wally, weren't you?" Bruce shakes his head and opens his mouth to protest but Clark doesn't allow him to speak. "That's why you looked over at Wally's seat, right?" Clark's tone has gone harsh, accusatory. One of the alien's hands travel down to the left side of Bruce's hip, thumb pressing into the Superman symbol burned there. Bruce flinches as Clark growls, "Do I have to remind you _again_ who exactly you belong to?"

"No!" Bruce gasps, not able to get away from that thumb. "I wasn't thinking about him, Clark. I was thinking about you, only you."

Clark gets in his face, baring his teeth and eyes turning red. Bruce can feel the heat of those blazing eyes on his skin, radiating from the frightening look. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!" He flinches again as that thumb presses harder, sharp, hot pain shooting up the side of his body. Clark had given him that scar just yesterday, when Bruce was caught talking about Talia to Dick, and how she was in Gotham trying to play out one of her father's schemes again. Clark had gotten jealous, dragging him forcefully up to their room, and used heat vision to burn the S into his skin. "It was about you and how you lobotomized the Gotham villains." Bruce's voice shakes and he swallows, trying to control the wavering. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest. Clark's thumb eases and eyes turn back to blue, but mistrust radiates from them. A dull ache throbs where Clark's thumb had been. "God, Clark, Wally was the same age as Dick. They were best friends. Wally was more like a son to me. You know that."

Clark's hand suddenly comes up and grips Bruce by the throat, pushing his head back against the wall, chin up. Clark doesn't squeeze but the pressure is threatening. "Don't talk back to me." The hand then moves and slides Bruce's cowl off his head, revealing Bruce's face. Clark's hand cups his cheek. "You know I get like this because I just love you so much, right?"

Bruce resists the urge to swallow, his mouth filling with saliva. It would look too much like a hesitation to Clark. Bruce cups Clark's cheek back. "I know. I love you too. I would never hurt you."

Clark watches him closely, eyes roaming over Bruce's face. The man's eyebrows furrow, eyes shining with concern. "I just don't want to lose you, Bruce."

Bruce smiles at him, forced and fake. "And you won't." There's silence between them as Clark holds Bruce against the wall, bruising grip still on his arm. Clark's eyes stare into his, not moving. Bruce finally swallows.

Clark's fist flies out and punches the wall right next to Bruce's head, causing Bruce to flinch and suck in a surprised breath. Clark gets in his face, breath warm as he talks. "Do you really think I'm _that_ stupid?" He turns Bruce around, slamming him against the wall and pressing Bruce's face into it with a hand on the back of his head.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce grinds out, eyes shut from the pain in his head caused by getting it slammed against metal. There's a dent in the wall where Clark's fist collided with it.

Clark's lips press against Bruce's ear. "I see the way you look at me. With pity filled eyes. With rage and sadness."

"No," Bruce protests, breath inhaling in sharp gulps, fear crawling its way up into his chest.

"Yes," Clark hisses and Bruce's blood goes cold. Clark's other hand reaches around and starts pulling down Bruce's pants to the Batsuit. "I'm going to show you exactly what will happen if you _ever_ leave me."

"Clark please," Bruce pleads and for a brief second, Clark hesitates.

Clark looks at him, eyes narrowed. "Do you not want it?" And Bruce can hear the implication in that voice, the implication that if he says anything other than "do it" that it will only make Clark angrier. Bruce doesn't want Clark angrier.

Bruce closes his eyes, feels his heart breaking even more, and finally says, "No, I want you. Only you."

He can hear the smirk in Clark's voice when the alien replies. "Good." Bruce's pants are pulled down to his knees, exposing his soft cock. Clark's hand wraps around it and the alien scoffs. "You don't love me anymore at all."

"I do," Bruce says but his voice sounds small and defeated.

He can hear Clark shuffling behind him to pull down the pants to the Superman outfit. Then, Clark pushes the top of the Batsuit up a little, exposing the S burn. One of Clark's fingers traces it. "I don't know if I can believe you. You look at me with disgust."

Bruce shakes his head. "No, I don't. I'll always love you, Clark."

"Hmm," Clark hums, spitting on his finger and then reaching behind Bruce to slide it into his entrance, mouth close to Bruce's ear. "You do look at me like that, but I know how to remedy it." Another finger is entered into him, almost completely dry with just enough spit to ease it in. It's painful and Bruce sucks in a strained breath through clenched teeth. "You will love me again, Bruce."

Clark is pumping two fingers into Bruce slowly, stroking Bruce's cock to try and awaken it. Bruce closes his eyes and tries to will himself to get hard but it doesn't work. It's not until Clark pulls his fingers out, makes Bruce suck them until they are dripping with saliva, and sticks them back into him that he starts to stir, the painful burn easing.

Reaching back behind himself, Bruce grabs a hold of Clark's head and pulls it forward, kissing the alien on the lips sensually. Clark now has three fingers in him and he's starting to enjoy it somewhat, finally fully hard. Bruce pulls away from Clark's mouth and looks the man in the eyes. "You don't need to _make_ me love you. I promise, Clark, I love you with everything I've got." Clark looks Bruce in the eyes and Bruce suddenly feels like crying but instead he swallows hard, Clark removing his fingers. "You're the only one for me."

 _And that's the problem_ , Bruce thinks as Clark smirks in satisfaction, lining up to Bruce's entrance. _I love you too much. I would do anything for you._ _Please come back to me, Clark._ A tear slips out of Bruce's eyes as he closes them, waiting for Clark to enter him.

"You're now ready." Clark's emotionless voice concludes.

It wouldn't matter if Bruce told Clark that he wasn't ready. Clark doesn't care and will continue no matter what. The knowledge of that hurts but there's nothing he can do. He just knows he still loves the man, even after everything Clark has put him through and when Bruce's next words are out of his mouth, they almost shock him. "Don't leave, just, don't ever leave me either."

Bruce doesn't know what he would do if Clark abandoned him, so he decides to not think about it. Instead he focuses on the pressure of Kal's body behind him, the warmth coming off it, and the pure rage in those eyes. He's trying so desperately to keep Clark happy and he still hopes that someday his beloved Clark will return to him.

Clark pushes in hard, Bruce gasping at the strength, and Clark's smile felt against Bruce's ear. "Never," Clark whispers to him.

Clark had pushed into him with spit as the only thing slicking up the alien's cock, causing pain to shoot up Bruce's back. Bruce arches off the wall, breathing in a shuddering, sharp breath. A trickle of blood runs down his thigh, a throbbing ache radiating throughout his lower back and upper legs. The only mercy Clark shows is waiting for Bruce to catch his breath before the man slowly starts pulling out and then slowly going back into Bruce, more blood dripping down the inside of his thighs. The worst part is, Bruce is still hard. He's enjoying the pain, feels like he deserves it.

He dismissed Superman killing Lex Luthor, stood there as Clark lobotomized the villains of his city, and contributed to the worlds destruction at the hands of the Justice Lords. He's just as bad as Lord Superman, just as responsible. He's earned this as his punishment, this torture before he finally dies at the hands Lord Superman.

Clark pushes in one last time before stopping, panting in sync with Bruce's own drawn in breaths. The alien reaches around and grabs a hold of Bruce's hard cock, the tip already leaking greedily. Bruce wants more, he wants more pain, more punishment. "I'm always amazed by how much you enjoy me hurting you. Sometimes," Clark strokes down the length of Bruce's cock and Bruce moans with pleasure, "I wonder how far I can go before I really break you."

"Kill me," Bruce mutters, fluttering his eyes open. "Are you going to eventually kill me?"

Clark chuckles, the vibrations traveling through the whole alien's body and into the cock buried in Bruce's ass. Bruce tenses at the feeling. Clark had stopped moving, allowing the head of the man's cock to rest on Bruce's prostate. Bruce groans and Clark's chuckling ceases. "Of course, not. I would never kill you, Bruce. I never want you to leave me, remember?"

"Then what are you going to do when I die?" Bruce asks, concentrating on Clark's hand stroking him slowly.

"You're not going to die," Clark says, pecking Bruce's ear.

"I will eventually. Maybe not in battle but age-"

"Who says you're going to grow old?" Clark interrupts and Bruce's eyes snap open completely, shocked. "I'm not going to let you get old, Bruce. That's nonsense."

Bruce is about to ask Clark how exactly he plans on keeping Bruce young when it hits. "The Lazarus Pits?" Bruce asks, horrified. Clark is licking at his neck and the alien hums in confirmation. "Clark, you can't-"

"I can." Clark lifts his head and looks at Bruce's profile. "Of course, I can. You're _never_ leaving me."

"But the pit messes with your head, Clark, I don't want-"

"I don't care what you want," Clark snaps and squeezes Bruce's cock painfully, pulling out and shoving back in roughly. The mixture of spit and blood has made the movements smoother, easier, but it still aches and throbs. "When I say you're never leaving me, Bruce, that means you're never leaving."

Bruce's heart sinks to his stomach, causing nausea. He shuts his eyes dejectedly, realizing that he won't even have the escape of death to get him out of Hell. Bruce hangs his head, leaning against the wall. "What if I did it myself?"

"Did what?" Clark asks, beginning to stroke again.

"Killed myself," Bruce answers.

Clark starts laughing. "You wouldn't dare. I'd still put your body in the pit, bringing you back." Another tear escapes from Bruce's eyes and one of his hands curl into a fist. "Awe, don't be like that, Bruce. We'll be together, in love, for eternity. Isn't that what you want?" Bruce doesn't answer and Clark kisses his temple. "Of course, it is."

The alien begins to really fuck him then, pulling back and pushing back in roughly, groaning and panting with pleasure. Bruce's eyes have screwed shut again, a large lump lodging itself in his throat as he thinks about spending forever with this version of Clark, in this Hell. Does he not deserve death, to finally rest and be gone from this world? Has he done so much wrong in his life that this is his fate for now on?

The people of the world would be right. There is no more God. There's only Lord Superman.

Bruce gasps as Clark's cock hits his prostate, the first time Clark has probably done it on purpose. Clark's hands are on his dick, stroking in time with those brutal thrusts, the head leaking precum profusely. Sweat is dripping down his body and when he tries to look behind himself, all he sees are red, glowing eyes staring back. Bruce's heart stutters in fear, despite Clark saying he would never kill him. But it's not the dying he is afraid of anymore. It's watching Clark fall even more, seeing how far gone he really ends up.

Bruce is panting uncontrollably now, Clark's cock hitting his prostate with every entry. He's close, even with the pain of the whole thing, and he wants to cum but is too afraid that if he begs for it, Clark will leave him without finishing. The Kryptonian is in a cruel state of mind right now and Clark has done it before. Clark would do it now as well.

It's not too long before Clark starts to stutter into the end, thrusts becoming awkward and uneven. Soon, Bruce is feeling a hot liquid being pumped into him and it's enough to get himself off. Especially when Clark's fingers are rubbing at the head of his cock, playing with the slit there. He's cumming onto the wall with long, white spurts, body shaking uncontrollably and low moan escaping his throat. They stand there, sated physically, for a few seconds before Clark finally pulls out of him.

Bruce immediately drops to the floor, onto his knees. His hands are still splayed on the wall but his head is bowed between his arms. He feels Clark kneel down beside him and Bruce tries to hold off the tears for now.

"You're mine, Bruce. Don't ever forget that," Clark tells him and stands.

Bruce looks up, vision blurring with unshed tears. "Clark?" Clark stops and turns around to face him. "Please, don't leave me here."

Clark crosses his arms. "And why shouldn't I?"

Bruce tries to think of something, anything. His legs hurt and his ass is on fire, pin pricks crawling up his back. The sex was too rushed, too forced. Bruce's stomach turns upside down at the thought of actually liking it, about how fucked up in the head Bruce really is. He's just as insane as Clark. "I don't think I can get back to my room on my own."

Clark takes a step towards him. "And what? You don't want to be seen out here, humiliated?"

"Please…" Bruce begs because he has no other choice. Clark will leave him here, all by himself, until Diana or J'onn find him. And he can't let that happen because Diana and J'onn can never know about this. Clark has made it perfectly clear to him before that if anyone would find out about how they have sex, how rough it can get, Bruce would lose all respect from the rest of the Lords. That they would look down upon him, as if he were weak and never listen to another order that he gave again. Bruce can't lose that. He can't let them see him as below them. He can't lose control of them. It's the only thing he can control in his life. So Bruce isn't above begging in this situation.

Clark is staring at him and Bruce prays internally that Clark isn't feeling _that_ cruel. Finally, the alien drops his arms and approaches Bruce, lifting him up by one arm. "Fine."

Clark helps Bruce back to his room and during the journey, Bruce pretends it's _his_ Clark who is helping him. The Clark who had love for others. The Clark who cared and did everything in his power to save people. The Clark that Bruce would have wanted to spend eternity with.

Clark deposits his aching body onto Bruce's bed and then walks away. The alien stops in the doorway, turning back to face Bruce. "I love you, Bruce." There's an edge of sincerity in the Kryptonian's voice but it's hidden behind the coldness of it, the threatening untone being heard clearly.

"I love you too, Clark." Bruce stares the Devil in the eyes. "Forever."

 **A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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